living life one day at a time
by JennnyJ
Summary: Post Reichenbach. This will be a gathering of short stories about John and Sherlock's days apart  and how they cope with life in general. One of them believing the other one to be dead and the other one forced to live in the shadows, watching from afar.
1. December, 5th

December, 5th

A few wintery sunbeams searched its way through the window and played over the face of a sleeping man.  
>His short hair was a mix of dark and blond and had got a bit messy from his uneasy sleep, he had dark circles beneath his eyes and an almost empty teacup stood on the table before him. The room he was sleeping in looked like a normal English living-room apart from the many boxes that stood piled here and there just waiting to be moved to a new location.<br>The man grunted in his sleep and rolled over to his other side on the small couch, revealing the scarf he was holding firmly pressed against his bosom.  
>"Sherlock", he mumbled, silent tears wetting his cheeks even in this dreaming state. "No. No, please. <em>Please.<em>"  
>The man would soon wake up to the sound of his alarm, he would instantly look towards the doorway as if he was expecting someone and then he would get up, take the cup of tea and with a sudden feeling of rage he'd smash it against the patterned wall before he'd fall down onto his knees, screaming to himself – no longer caring about whoever happened to hear him.<br>Not a minute later he would collect himself, as always, and by the time the movers came he'd be his usual, calm self and act as if nothing had ever happened.  
>There had been over a year since the fall.<p> 


	2. February, 7th

February, 7th

The shop was filled with people running around in different errands and the queue to the cash desk seemed to stretch out into infinity.  
>A blond man stood before the cashier, his things had already been scanned and put in different bags and all he had to do now was to pay for it.<br>A beeping sound told him for the third time that the transaction had gone wrong and muttering to himself he sent the woman behind the desk an apologetic smile before he tried again.  
>"Get a move on, will you?" An older man cried impatiently from the steadily growing queue. "If that stupid<em> machine <em>doesn't -"  
>"Shut up!" The blond man shouted, turning to the man with shaking hands and teary eyes. "Don't you say another word, you hear me? Just <em>shut up<em>!"  
>And with that he left the shop, not caring about the groceries he'd bought but only thinking of getting away. He could still hear himself, his words echoing in his mind.<br>_"You machine." "_You_ machine." "_You_ – machine."  
><em>No more than a few meters from the front door the man sank down onto the ground, burying his face in his hands whilst his shoulders were shaking uncontrolled.  
>"Sherlock, I'm sorry", he whispered through his tears, taking deep breaths to calm himself down again, "I'm so sorry."<p> 


	3. March, 2nd

March, 2nd

He used to watch him, now and then.  
>Usually when being in a crowded place, like in the supermarket or the theater, but sometimes he gathered the courage, or rather stupidity, to walk right behind him when crossing the road or like today, stand on the other side of a bookshelf in the library.<br>He knew John would never recognize him when only giving him a quick glance, not with his short, reddish hair and the tweed that he hated so much anyway. He needed those moments though, these small encounters, to be able live through the day.  
>He would be a mighty fool, and he rarely was, if he didn't notice the dark circles beneath his love's eyes or the way his lips seemed to shiver when he'd been lost in thoughts for too long and it was moments like these, like when he watched him through the gap between two books, which were extra hard on him.<br>So, with a small sigh he reached out a pale, slender hand and nudged one of the books.  
>The small push was enough for the book to fall to the ground on the other side of the shelf and with thumping heart he could see how the blond man awoke from his troublesome thoughts to reach down and pick it up.<br>With a vague smile he watched the man read the book's title, chuckling to himself.  
>It was the first real laugh he'd heard from him in almost five months.<br>"_He_ would have loved it", the blond man whispered solemnly to himself and looked at the book for a few more seconds before he placed it under his arm and walked towards the counters.  
>The man with short, red hair and a brown tweed jacket would follow him with his gaze, his lips firmly pressed against each other so that they wouldn't shiver.<br>"You laughed today, John", he said to himself as he placed his hands in his pockets and walked through the front doors and out on street. "Just give it some time and I'll soon be a vague memory of someone you used to know, give it some time and I won't be able to hurt you anymore."  
>But deep within, he knew that none of them would ever be able to forget.<p> 


End file.
